We don’t blame the paper for being lined, We don’t blame the ink for doing the dirty work

May 7

Posted by

All smells collide

sitting in a compost bucket

heart in a treetop on the sleeve of a red winged blackbird

a cacophony

the most beautiful sound is not silence

is not nothingness

is clattering

is calling

wings buzzing

diving for a chance at the red plastic flower feeder

in a bare dirt yard

at sunrise.

 

 

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About iknowyouknowmyheart

Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No Matter. Try Again, Fail Again, Fail Better -Beckett Here I am right over there, running into opportunities to stop running and hoping they keep my scent until my prayers are answered and I am brave enough to slow down.

Posted on May 7, 2018, in love, love poems, luck, queer and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. Andrew Gervais | May 7, 2018 at 7:32 am

    Excellent!

    Like

    Reply

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